


Guilty Feet

by thejokeristhethief



Series: So This Is Home [8]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 06:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3840685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejokeristhethief/pseuds/thejokeristhethief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash has two left feet, York puts his foot in his mouth, and North is almost a perfect gentleman throughout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilty Feet

The music plays softly in the background, a slow, steady beat. York lets himself relax into North’s chest as the taller man engulfs him in a hug. The days are long and boring when york is stuck at home without his lovers. But his eye has been acting up recently and it’s hard for a half blind locksmith to find work these days. So nobody can blame him if he clings to North a little longer than usual, right? And if they start swaying to the music, whose business is it anyway? Wash hasn’t gotten home yet and it’s been a long time since North has danced with him.

York sighs contently, pulling North further along into the dance. North wraps his arms more securely around York’s waist, tugging him more firmly against his chest, before calmly taking control of the dance. No matter how many times York tries, North never lets him lead. York fights it for a moment before giving in. Instead, he settles his head on North’s shoulder and presses his lips to North’s neck in a soft kiss. North hums quietly, drawing aimless patterns on York’s lower back. They stay like this, dancing slowly around the living room, until the door opens with a crash and Wash trips his way through the front door, cursing.

They trade looks as Wash mutters to himself, stripping off his dripping jacket and toeing off his sodden sneakers. York sighs as North pulls away from the comfortable embrace to make some hot cocoa. He approaches Wash cautiously, acutely aware that the younger man has yet to acknowledge either of them. Wash usually greets them immediately after coming through the door. Something is definitely wrong.

“Rough day at work, Wash?” York asks quietly, a bid to capture his lover’s attention before approaching any further.

Wash lets out a dramatic sigh that only a man dealing with idiots daily and over an extended period of time can evoke. “Tucker is just so damn lazy. If he turned in the reports of the work he did on time my life would be so much easier. Figuring out what has and hasn’t been done because he hasn’t finished his damn reports is a waste of time. Group projects are so stupid. And I don’t even know what to do with Caboose. The man somehow managed to flood the entire biology research lab today. I’m not even sure if we’ll be able to recover half the computers and equipment. I don’t understand how this happens!”

“You need to get out of those soaked clothes before you get sick,” North calls from the kitchen, interrupting Wash before he can fully get into a rant.

York nudges Wash gently towards the bedroom. "Go get changed into something comfortable. I think North is making hot chocolate.”

Wash forces a grin before placing a quick peck on York’s lips and striding down the hallway, shedding wet clothing as he goes. York takes a moment to admire his freckled back before wandering into the kitchen and hoisting himself onto the counter beside the stove. The counter that just happens to be strategically situated under the cupboard housing the spices. North is just going to have to pay a toll if he wants that cinnamon.

North, being the mind reader that he is, chuckles warmly as he presses a soft kiss on York’s mouth, before pulling him off the counter. “Last time you did that, I opened the cupboard and just about knocked you out with the door. I’m pretty sure I gave you a mild concussion."

“I still think the kisses were worth it.” York grins, before wrapping his arms around North’s neck to pull him down for another kiss as he rummages around the spice cupboard above York’s head. There is a clatter of glass jars on the counter as North reacts to the swipe of York’s tongue against his lips. North’s hands come up, the left cups York’s face while the right tangles into his hair, tugging sharply to elicit a soft moan.

Wash coughs quietly from the doorway. “I think the hot chocolate is burning.”

North pulls away with a curse, turning to the stove to salvage his pot of liquid warmth. York mock glares at the young man leaning against the door frame. He looks good in a pair of York’s sweats and one of North’s t-shirts that hangs almost to his knees. Wash drops his gaze to the floor, shoulders tensing in uncertainty. York takes in the self conscious posture of his younger lover, brow creasing in distress. Something is definitely going on today.

Pitching his voice low and soothing, York asks, “Wash, what’s wrong babe? Did something else happen today?”

Wash slowly meets York’s gaze, watching as he takes a few tentative steps forward. He looks down again, letting out a sigh filled with frustration, disappointment, desperation and sadness. York notes, distractedly, how North’s back tenses at the same time he feels his heart start to shatter. That sigh suggests nothing good. York opens his mouth to forestall this painful conversation before it can start, but Wash beats him to it, eyes meeting again. This time there is a thin layer of steel attempting to hide the lost look in them.

Wash takes a deep, steadying breath before starting. “I’ve been giving it some thought, and I don’t think this is going to work. You’re too close. I’ve been trying to figure out where I fit, but I’ve realized there is no room. I don’t fit. And… and that’s OK. Because you’re in love and I don’t want to get in between that.”

All of the air rushes out of York’s lungs at the same time North drops the spoon he was clutching tightly moments before. There is a hiss of pain as the liquid splashes up North’s arm, but York ignores it, already moving forward to embrace Wash, words falling from his lips, unprocessed by his brain. He’s dimly aware that he’s begging. Wash struggles against York’s hold, attempting to pull away, only to run into the solid mass of North, who herds him closer to York instead.

Wrapping his arms around both of them, North breathes into Wash’s hair. His voice shakes. “Don’t be an idiot Wash. This is where you fit. You need to get between us because the only place you’ll ever truly fit **is** between us. We aren’t stupid enough to let you go. Now why don’t you and York get settled in the living room while I finish making the hot chocolate and then we’ll talk about this.”

Wash shakes in York’s arms as North places a kiss on his head before moving back towards the stove. York can feel Wash’s fingers clench tighter in the fabric of his shirt. The damp spot on his shoulder enforces York’s belief that Wash doesn’t really want to break up. Rubbing soothing circles on his back, York walks Wash backwards into the living room. The music is still playing softly and York grins into Wash’s hair. Placing his mouth next to Wash’s ear, he whispers, overly formal, “Would you do me the immense honor of accepting this dance?”

Wash giggles into his shoulder before pulling back to smile up at him with red rimmed eyes. He replies back, just as formal, “It would do me great pleasure to accept, good sir.”

Within seconds it becomes painfully obvious to York that Wash does not know how to dance. At all. And to make matters worse, he refuses to let his classically trained boyfriend lead him. York breathes in sharply as Wash steps on his foot again before subtly adjusting the pace and steps in an attempt to take over leading Wash again. Wash merely adjusts with him, jerking York’s arm in a stubborn way.

“Just let me lead, would ya?” York’s voice comes out more frustrated than he anticipates.

Wash freezes for a moment before apologizing. “I’m sorry, I’ve never danced before. I wasn’t trying to lead. I’ll do better this time."

York winces, gathering Wash closer. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean for that to come out that way. You’re doing fine. Just follow my feet OK?”

They dance together for a couple of minutes before Wash starts attempting to lead again. York’s ability to coax him back into the following role fails and before long they are wrestling for control again. After a few embarrassing moments, York throws his hands up in frustration.

“You’re doing it wrong again! You ruin **everything**!” He snarls in frustration.

Wash’s eyes go wide and his lip starts to tremble. “What?”

York’s eyes fall on Wash’s face and he swears softly. “Shit, Wash. I didn’t mean that. I…”

Wash bolts for the door before York can piece together any sort of explanation. By the time York gets it together enough to follow, the door has already slammed shut.

“Well that went well.” North comments from the living room, a tray of hot cocoa and cookies in his hands. He places the tray on the coffee table, frowning at the door. “What happened? I checked on you guys a few minutes ago and he looked happy. And a moment later, I hear yelling and Wash is taking off.”

“We were dancing and he didn’t know what he was doing but he wouldn’t let me lead. I got frustrated and opened my big fucking mouth. Yelled at him. And now he’s gone.” York’s shoulders slump. “You’re dating an idiot.”

“Fuck York. You couldn’t just let it go? We just convinced him to stay and was actually looking content and then you yell at him because he can’t dance? What is wrong with you?” North is violently shoving his feet into his shoes as he dresses York down. He pulls on a jacket before grabbing an extra one. Wash took off without his and in wet shoes. “Stay here. I’m going to go convince our boyfriend that he still wants to date us, despite you being a complete asshole. Start thinking of ways to make it up to him.”

York watches as North stomps out the door, shutting it behind him with a final glare at York. Banging his head against the wall, York glances around the room. His eyes land on the steaming mugs of hot chocolate and he shuts off the music before collecting the tray. Entering the kitchen, he retrieves the pot from the sink and returns the chocolate from the mugs back into the pot. Setting the burner on low, he covers the pot. The least he can do is make sure it’s warm for them when they get home.

A menu from the new Chinese restaurant they’ve been meaning to try catches his eye as he cleans the mugs. Grinning as a plan formulates in his mind, York calls the restaurant for delivery. He orders Wash’s favorite, ginger chicken, along with chowmein, fried rice, dry ribs, and Szechuan beef. As an afterthought he adds spring rolls and wonton soup. Next he checks pay per view for the romantic comedy that Connie was talking about earlier this week and orders that as well. Finally, he drags all the pillows and blankets he can find out to the living room.

By the time North returns with Wash over an hour later, York has transformed the living room into a palace of blankets. The coffee table is laid out with a feast of Chinese food and the trailer for the movie is replaying on the TV that has been encompassed by the blanket fort. It is a masterpiece of carefully arranged cushions and chairs that brings a glimmer of a smile to Wash’s face immediately.

York flings himself from the kitchen to the front door, gathering Wash into his arms and peppering his face with kisses. After apologizing profusely, York explains his plan. “I ordered Chinese. All our favorites. And I kept the hot chocolate warm. Oh and remember that film Connie was talking about? The one about the couple that follows each other through lifetimes of reincarnation until one time she forgets who he is and he has to get her to fall in love with him all over again? I found it on pay per view. I thought we could cuddle up and watch it together in our palace."

Wash pushes away from him gently. “Fine. But I’m never dancing with you again. You’re lucky you are so good at sucking up. And you’re lucky I’m a sucker for amazing blanket structures.”

York’s eyes follow Wash as he scopes out the incredible mass of blankets and furniture before slipping into a gap between blankets. Once Wash is out of sight, York glances sheepishly up at North through his eyelashes. North sighs, wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging him into the kitchen.

“We’re good. But he was pretty upset York. It’s going to take a lot of sucking up before he feels 100% comfortable with us again. On the positive side, I think he might be falling in love with us.” North pours the hot chocolate back into mugs, scrutinizing it. “This actually looks OK. Good job.”

York grins at the praise. “I’m glad it passes your inspection. And I’m happy to hear that Wash is falling for us. Because I’m definitely in love with him. Now lets go eat some Chinese and cuddle with our lover.”

York follows North into his incredible feat of blanket engineering, settling onto the pillows next to Wash. He bites into a spring roll, cuddling into his boyfriend as North hits play on the movie. Two hours and eleven minutes later, the three lovers are piled together passed out and oblivious to the end of the movie.

* * *

 

The following week, North comes home late from work on Thursday. He enters the house to the soft sound of music echoing out of the living room. One glance shows him all he needs to see: Wash and York attempting to dance again. North picks his keys up from the table he just tossed them on. There is no way he is sticking around for this. Opening the door, he exits without a word. He’s going to get ice cream. After this fiasco, they’ll need it.


End file.
